


Hey Chef, I Could Be Wrong

by Moretta



Series: Under (Cabin) Pressure [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Gen, Travelling Lemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moretta/pseuds/Moretta
Summary: For the Fandot Creativity Night prompt: Rings/CurlsRestaurant!AU, with Martin as Head Chef and Douglas as their Patissier, and Arthur as an excellent waiter. Theresa makes a brief cameo on fish.





	Hey Chef, I Could Be Wrong

Martin watches with undeniable jealousy as all of Douglas’ easy strokes produce perfectly even curls of 85% dark chocolate.

No one he has ever known can put just the right amount of pressure on to get the perfect curl every time, continuously, even once they get a rhythm, but Douglas’ damn luck and sometimes, admittedly, skill, gives him this.

The first chocolate curls are placed on individual white coffee panna cottas, which are removed from sight by the wait staff in under thirty seconds, and then Douglas goes back to make more.

“You could keep observing me and my perfect form,” Douglas drawls, finally stepping away from the block of chocolate and picking up some almond paste, “But if you don’t remove the pans from the rings soon, the fire alarm is going to go off.”

“Bugger!”

Martin rushes back to his station, nodding at Theresa on fish on his way past, pushing his hat out of his field of vision, removes the lemon and sage risotto from the heat just before it burns and carefully starts to plate it.

He can feel Douglas approaching even if he can’t see him.

“I can do this, Douglas.”

“I am aware, Martin.” 

Martinputs the pan down, grabs the cleaning rag and wipes the edges of the plates, “My credentials may not include Michelin-starred patisseries, but I am the Head Chef of this restaurant and no complaints have come my way.”

“I am very, very aware, Martin.”

He sprinkles a fine mist of Parmesan onto the dishes, then artfully arranges a few fried sage leaves, “And I am more than capable, in my own kitchen, of preparing dishes for the few people who need my meals at a time.”

“I know, Martin,” says Douglas, handing him a lemon and a microplane zester, “That isn’t why I am here.”

Martin’s eyes narrow even as he zests onto the counter before adding a pinch onto the centre of the plates.

“Why are you on this side of the kitchen?”

Douglas smirks and saunters away again, bowing to Theresa on his way past, who swats at him with a tea towel.

Arthur bursts into the kitchen with his usual boundless energy, always raring to go and happy to announce he's cheerful about it, “Hello Chef, other chefs, table 7, two risottos and a sole?”

Once everything is on his tray and ready to go, Arthur looks up at Martin again and grins.

“Chef. You do know there’s a lemon on your hat?”

“Damn it, Douglas! It only counts if it’s outside of the kitchen!”


End file.
